


Aubade

by archea2



Series: The Reason for the Unreason [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade has found the perfect wake-up call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aubade

**Author's Note:**

> A 221B ficlet, originally written to launch a Spanksgiving Challenge on my LiveJournal. This one is actually quite fluffy.

In the winter, when dawn breaks late and mild, it finds them undercover – a lazy sum of one, duveted and close.

 

Lestrade wakes when Sherlock is still heavy-lidded and consulting with Morpheus. Good sleep leaves him more tender; more reluctant to roll over in the narrow bed (bought in a fit of pique after she got custody of the faux Toscan Super King, and the sofa, _and_  the 60’s records) and tell sleep and Lestrade apart.

 

Lestrade, who loves him for it, gives him a break. And then, when eleven strikes a remembrance of eggs past, a hand. Soft fingertips, loitering on the back of a neck, down the runnel of a back, blossoming into a firmer touch when he reaches further down, then up again.

 

He lifts his hand and drops it leisurely on Sherlock’s tender bottom. A ripple of pats along curves, thighs and the coveted secret crack, putting the reduced leverage to warm use. Soon, Sherlock is moaning himself alert; Lestrade smiles against his ear.

 

He begins to quiz Sherlock, varying the pitch and pattern of smacks according to answers. Sherlock thinks _context_ and goes for cheeky, but Lestrade still pulls back until "Who was Eleanor Roosevelt?". Then the duvet takes a plunge and Lestrade’s hand flails up and down to Sherlock’s happy squeals.

 

"...Song by the Beat-les?"


End file.
